I Willingly
by xxDibDabxx
Summary: Future-fic. Love is a force not to be reckoned. A Warlock surpresses it; a King succumbs to it too easily and not easily enough; a Queen betrays it; And a Scarlet Woman drains broken love by ripping the heart from the body. Merthur
1. Love

**I Willingly: Chapter One**

**Oh... FanFiction! O_O IT'S SO BRIGHT! I've been away too long! **

**Hello again. I'm still AWAL so you can carry on celebrating when I'm gone. I wrote this in a time of depression and pain, needing to express myself and it's feeling sorry for itself just sitting on my hard-drive so, by all means, enjoy. It was done a while back, but I don't think there are many errors. I'm my own editor so don't take my word for it :)**

**Pairings: Arthur/OC Lancelot/OC Merlin/Arthur Arthur/Morgana urm... maybe some others? I can't remember! Basically Camelot in the Kingdom of Love ;)**

**Angsty!everyone. Just a warning. Review if you feel like it, I'll reply. I don't really mind. This is for all my friends and fans (?) just as a promise I will return and I am still working. I miss you all and I hope to join you again soon. Goodbye. **

* * *

The first time they met, there was a festival in Camelot. Celebrating the coming of a party of nobles from the farthest end of Mercia. King Beyard was among those, there to strengthen the treaty of trust between the neighboring Kingdoms, and he had spent all evening beside Uther, laughing and throwing back ale carelessly. Men could not be merrier.

Prince Arthur had spent far too long beside the men, listening to slurred chatter he took no interest in. Therefore, he took to wandering the ballroom, glancing at the dancing nobles - the twirling couples and smiling lovers – and taking very little interest in the musicians in the corner that gave a melody to the humble chatter.

His manservant's gaze never left him, watching his procession with tingling concern. Arthur never danced; it was something he scowled at and refused to take part in. He usually endured through these evening, drinking with his knights and laughing through the torment. But, tonight, something was different. Sighing, Merlin left his place at the side of the hall and fell into place beside his Prince, waiting for Arthur to notice him.

Glancing at movement, Arthur's gaze of cerulean locked on a pair of soothing sapphires, forcing that familiar warmth in the Prince's chest. Merlin. In that glance alone a thousand forbidden secrets giggled. If anyone saw them, they would recoil in shock. If anyone understood, both men would be put to death, or worse, Arthur would lose the throne.

But no one did. They never did.

A coy smile tugged at the Prince's lips, eyes gleaming, and he raised an eyebrow. Merlin grinned brilliantly, causing Arthur to falter mentally,

"Another drink, Arthur?" The Prince rolled his eyes at the improper title, but he still smiled. Face becoming one of mock annoyance, he replied,

"If you insist, Merlin. How kind of you to let this come out of your wage". Snorting, Merlin shook his head, and held out the full goblet. Their hands brushed at the metal cup passed between them, and they smiled, thinking the other wouldn't notice. That was all it could be. Brushing of flesh, smiled and glances. Nothing more. Never. It did not bother them, though, for they still had many a year before the true pain. Or so they thought.

With a final glance from under his eyelashes, Merlin retreated back to his position beside one of the pillars, his heart thumping loudly in his ears. Forbidden secrets, indeed. He still watched on as Arthur sipped his drink, stealing a final glance at his manservant, before continuing around the great hall. Feeling assured the Prince was well, Merlin settled into a false sense of security. Fate was so cruel.

Turning into the hall in an elegant dress that swept across the floor, her hair spilling down her back like a river of gold, and her violet eyes piercing everywhere, she forced a gasp of awe from everyone in the room. Her beauty was unmeasured, stealing the spotlight from Morgana, and causing the Lady to smile in pride. Stepping with the silence of an angel and with the grace of the greatest dancer; the Prince was unsure as to whether everyone saw this, or just himself.

Arthur froze, goblet in mid air, and stared at her. His eyes widened. She was so…beautiful. Glancing up at him, her eyes met with cerulean, and she cast a spell on him. Hypnotizing him; he fell mercilessly and helplessly under her control. The goblet fell to the floor, scarlet liquid speckling the marble. This was no magic that she could be executed for. For this was love. Love at first sight.

The space between them closed without them realizing, and soon they were in the middle of the hall, unaware that everyone's eyes were on them. He blinked, before smiling with such affection, such love, it was startling,

"Prince Arthur, my Lady," he greeted, taking her hand. As their skin touched, a surge of electricity passed between them, and the connection was made. She was warm and soft, like fresh rose petals, so delicate yet, unbeknown to any, beneath her tenderness she yielded more than one thorn. She smiled gently as he kissed her hand, replying,

"Yes," their eyes met again, "I know who you are".

"Yet, I do not know your name". The world around them blurred into nothingness and all strings that tied their hearts to anything else fell away, stripped of emotion for any others, even soul-mates...

"I am Lady Gwendolyn," she tipped her head in a courtesy, "Niece to King Bayard, my Lord". Pushing a finger under her chin, Arthur lifted her face up to his again. Without another thought, he kissed her.

Merlin didn't have the breath for a gasp, his breath caught in his throat. But his mouth still opened; his eyes wide with betrayal. Stepping back into the shadows, he felt his fingers curl into fists, and cross over his front, as his soul crumbled mercilessly, every fiber of his being falling away. Tearing up, he mentally cried in anguish. His tears were filled with the blood of his bleeding heart.

…………………………

The marriage was swift, little more then a few months later. Gwen stayed at the castle while her uncle returned home, for she could not bear to be parted from her lover. Bells rang throughout Camelot, singing of a love unrequited. All the people gathered, teary and blissful with the blessed union of young hearts. Gwen looked like an angel, truly. Her gown was elegant, more beautiful so then anything Morgana had ever worn. Everyone gasped in amazement as she stepped down those stairs. All except one.

Merlin should have been stood beside Arthur, his close friend and loyal servant. A front row seat to the momentous occasion. Could the torture have been worse? Nay, he doubted it could. That is why Merlin stood behind everyone, lurking in the shadows like a horrific creature of the night. He allowed himself to look like an outcast, for he never wanted to be a part of such a celebration. For him, this was no wedding. It was a funeral.

But he smiled and clapped, heart bleeding as he watched Arthur announce his undying love to the world. He laughed at the jokes and he drank with his Prince, congratulating him. When it came to the ceremony, he watched and smiled. When they announced that Prince Arthur and Princess Gwendolyn were bonded for eternity as husband and wife, Merlin bit back a choke, but still smiled.

When they kissed, Merlin broke. He could no longer act and pretend, so, instead, he turned his face away with tightly shut eyes. Wincing, he crossed his arms around his front again. He felt as though he would fall to the ground then and there, becoming one with the earth, as all do after death. Why wasn't the world ending? The great dragon had told him his future was entwined with Arthurs. Merlin had believed him. Falling prey to the demon of love, he truly believed Arthur was _his_ destiny. Perhaps he'd misinterpreted the dragon's words. Perhaps his destiny was just to be Arthur's close friend and loyal servant. Nothing more.

He turned back when thousands of people clapped and cheered. Unexpectedly, the Prince looked to Merlin first out of all the people. Not his bride. Not his father. Not even his knights or people. No. He turned to the Warlock. And smiled. Merlin gasped against a sob, the tears spilling from his eyes. He saw pure happiness in Arthur's eyes. He saw that undying love and affection. But, he saw an apology. Arthur knew exactly what he was doing to Merlin, but he did it anyway. We don't control who we fall in love with.

Rolling his eyes, Arthur beamed at his manservant. Believing it was just Merlin being a girl and crying at weddings, he didn't realize and turned away. Now he looked to his bride. To his father. To his knights and people. Merlin was forgotten. Forgetting how to breathe, Merlin fell back against the tree behind him and sobbed. No more tears fell, but his body didn't understand that. He sobbed for his bleeding heart.

"Merlin?" A familiar, deep voice asked, making Merlin jump. Just as the Warlock went to turn around, he froze. There was magic in the air. It blossomed from a thought into existence, the greatest act of creation there ever could be. So natural. It grew vast in the air, it swirled and wove with the most elegant grace and nobility, becoming everything, lining Merlin's lungs as he breathed it in. Time froze - the purpose of the magic's existence. People were paralyzed. Water stopped flowing. The sun stopped descending, night held at bay. Somewhere, a woman paused as she gave birth and a new born child was forced to wait. Age became stagnant.

It was beautiful. But deadly. Just like her.

Merlin turned all the way, knowing exactly who would be there. Her hair was an extension of night, her most noticeable feature. Eyes pierced him with their brilliance. Smile poisonous and voice hypnotizing, she cupped his face and kissed his cheek where the tears still lingered, skin feeling lifeless and cold, like ice,

"Oh, Merlin," she greeted, while he just stared at her, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know you feel I am a traitor because I joined my kin, but my powers were getting out of control. My sister is the only family I have left; Arthur and Uther are nothing but tyrants. They would have killed me. I had to leave. Gwen left with me willingly, despite what you think. I believe she couldn't bear the thought of Arthur never truly loving her, never being her eternal partner. She misses you, Merlin. But neither of us regrets our parting.

"I know about you, Merlin. I know you're a Warlock. The moment we met, although I didn't realize, I knew. And I'm so sorry. But I know your other secret. That is why I have come to warn you," Merlin began to shake as agony rippled through him, and he too saw, "He will return. And, as he always steals that which is not his, he will steal Gwendolyn's heart. Together, they will break Arthur's. With a broken heart comes a broken shield. You must protect him. For King and country. She will come. Very soon, she will come.

"The truth will come out before the end, Merlin. I have seen it. In my dreams".

_Arthur was older now. Lines of age and heartbreak cracked his once youthful face, brittle around his cerulean eyes. He cupped the face of an equally broken man. Merlin. They looked at each other, and then Arthur was gone. Dancing around the fires of the world, Merlin's eyes were hollow and lost. Blood. He cried rivers of blood. She laughed, and she took his heart and she broke it. Screaming in anguish, the King fell to the ground, and he wept for Merlin. He wept and he wept until he would weep no more. _

"Who is she?" Merlin asked, his voice a whisper. Her visions saw with such accuracy, it was terrifying. Tipping her head, she smiled sadly,

"My dear Merlin. Always wearing your heart on your sleeve. Protect him, Merlin. You are right. He is your destiny," was all she would say. Deep beryl eyes smiled at him, begging his forgiveness. She still cared for her friends of old. It was only Uther she truly hated. He was a dark King whose blindness would send a once glorious Kingdom into a barren future. She would not let that happen. Merlin nodded. He never hated the Lady, no matter what path she chose.

In that glance, the past swept before them. A time when friendship and love was greatest. A lost time.

"I am tired, Morgana. I do not wish to be here. I do not want to feel the pain and witness the destruction and enact the future I had no part in choosing. I only stay for him. If he were not here, my Suffering would burn this Kingdom to ashes, which would be washed away with my Misery. These people only live because of Arthur. I will not feel guilt over any blood spilt because I didn't stop it. Not anymore".

Morgana's eyes shined, but she didn't speak a word. With a final sigh, she let go of Merlin's face and stepped back into the shadows. Her eyes burned where her body did not.

Time slipped back into existence, and Merlin took a deep breath of traitorous air. The music started up with the chatter. The people could exist again. The water fell to the ground. And the children came to life, brought into a world of screams and blood. The sun blinded Merlin, smiting his skin where the powerful hands of the Seer had touched his cheek. Sighing, he mourned his loss of faith in the humanity around him.

"Merlin?" Snapping his head around, he came face to face with big, dark eyes. They smiled at him before bleaching over in concern. How long had it been… the Warlock couldn't recall the knowledge. Lancelot put a hand on Merlin's shoulder, dropping his bag, and questioned, "What's-" He trailed off, eyes caught, in a look of pure awe, on a creature standing not far from him. Merlin sighed mentally as he recognized the look for the one Arthur wore the first night he met Gwendolyn. Surely enough, Merlin turned to see the Prince's bride staring back at Lancelot, a dazed smile on his face as she took him in, "-wrong…" he finished in a distant voice.

"_He will return. And he will steal Gwendolyn's heart. Together, they will break Arthur's". _

…………………………………

Morgana's dreams always came true. Undoubtedly. Gwendolyn and Lancelot fell in love. Arthur was her husband and Prince, meaning she would never betray him. Gwen and Lancelot shared one night of passion in the heat of summer, but never again. When Lancelot told all the knights and Arthur he loved Gwendolyn, and Gwendolyn admitted she loved Lancelot, Arthur was furious. He ordered for Lancelot to be banished, whereas Uther demanded Lancelot be beheaded. Gwendolyn helped Lancelot escaped and both lovers ran in the dead of night.

Together, they broke Arthur's heart.

The very evening of their escape, Arthur locked himself in his room. No body could enter. He'd almost killed one of his knights when the said man tried, so Uther forbade anyone to disturb his son. The old king understood heartbreak all too well. Merlin, however, never obeyed the King. He stopped outside his master's door and closed his eyes sadly as he heard Arthur's raspy breathe through his loud shrieks of pain. Whispering the incarnation, Merlin unlocked the door and slipped inside.

Everything in the room had been destroyed. From the curtains to the seams of his clothes. Feathers, wood chips and dust littered the floor, the walls and even the air. There was gaping hole in the wall, how it was done, however, was a mystery.

Merlin froze as he stared on at the mess Gwendolyn and Lancelot had left behind. Arthur had curled into a ball in the middle of his bed, holding his sides tightly with white hands as he sobbed loudly. The tears fell thick and fast. His eyes were shut in fear that his soul would leak out of his open wounds. His felt as though he was torn, so very close to falling apart and bleeding to death. Feeling as though his heart had been shattered, Arthur held his sides in an attempt to keep himself in one piece.

Agony rippled through him.

Merlin closed the space between them in an instant, and took his place beside Arthur. The Prince didn't even flinch. Sighing against the pain the Warlock felt for Arthur, Merlin pulled the broken form to his chest and cradled his friend. The Prince buried his face in the crook of Merlin's arm. A silence burdened them heavily.

You would think Merlin may feel the tiniest bit of happiness in the back of his mind at the separation of Arthur and Gwendolyn. But he didn't. He wanted the Prince to be happy, and so, he never stopped Arthur from being with Gwendolyn by forcing the Prince to accept Merlin's feelings. The Warlock hated Gwendolyn for what she'd done to Arthur, not for the pain she'd put Merlin through.

Arthur broke the silence.

"Gwen was pregnant…" he whispered, "She didn't know, but I did. I could see the signs. You know how I knew? Because it wasn't my child. It was Lancelot's. I gave her my heart and she chose to bear Lancelot's child," he choked, "He gave her what I could not…"

The Prince had tried, but he could not give Gwendolyn the child she craved. Lancelot did it the first time. Was that not the sign of true destiny? More tears escaped the Prince, and Merlin hugged him tighter. He wanted to cocoon Arthur with himself. To shield him. Take Arthur's pain as his own, and to allow Arthur to be whole again. Could he heal a broken heart?

Kissing his forehead, Merlin closed his eyes and rocked Arthur.


	2. Is

**I Willingly: Chapter Two **

Three years passed.

So much time, so many changes, so much life yet so much death… And every second was a blur of inner recklessness and thoughtlessness on Merlin's behalf that he barely recognised what he'd become. Merlin didn't pay attention, unless the matter involved Arthur, and only then would he shield his friend, as he was destined to do. Merlin didn't seek out alcohol or medicine to numb. Merlin didn't lash out with wrath at every passing soul because he couldn't fill the blank vastness inside of him. Merlin didn't once talk to anyone about his feelings, about his utter _boredom_ and _restlessness_. He just stood, as invisible as the white haze of a winter's morning, and lived. That was all Arthur asked of Merlin, and that was all Merlin would give.

In that time, Uther was slaughtered. It happened in public, where his entire Kingdom, his people, his _worshipping_ vermin could pay witness as the pathetic battle of the King and his doting, loved ward was fought with bitterness and fear. The King was smote where he stood and he fell with a great whimper, calling for his son, calling as he always called. _Serve me! Feed me! Wash me! Cloth me! Love me! HELP ME! _Not a single ounce of gratitude. Merlin did not weep. And neither did Arthur.

Both stood and watched and when the deed was done, when the cloudless sky laughed at the high amusement of Uther Pendragon's death, Morgana did not pay them a glance and merely walked away, satisfied and feeling no threat. Arthur has looked upon his father's corpse and answered those pleas of assistance at Uther's funeral. Arthur came, said his awe-inspiring speech about his father in that single word and left the vermin to mourn the passing of a sad, scared man.

"No".

Arthur was crowned that same day. Merlin glanced at the new King and felt a shiver run throughout the fabric of reality, a single thrilling quake that told of anticipation. The time was closing in and the Seer's prophecy would soon be upon them. Merlin took in a deep breath and felt the energy seep through his body, like the flutter of a dozen butterflies over the battlefield of a massacre. He turned to his King, saw the crown, and beamed. Arthur descended and put a firm hand on his manservant's shoulder.

"It begins today, my friend". Merlin smiled, faint and translucent but more real than any Arthur had seen in many a year. The King smiled back. "Now you shall have twice as many jobs to complete as my servant. I wish you the greatest of luck. And know I will always make life harder for you". He flashed a daring smile. Merlin began to glow and chuckled.

"I expect nothing less". Walking side by side, they stood in front of the marble stairs to the King's throne, much grander than anything Uther would have dared to flaunt. Arthur looked over the many faces of his nobles, his knights, the people who now lived under Arthur's ripe command, and they bowed. He stood, mighty and noble, as just and fair as any righteous King should be, and Fate licked Her lips. Eyes beamed with gratitude and stunned bewilderment, but the only eyes that mattered were the sapphires from behind the King's shoulder as Merlin watched his friend with nothing more than affection. No pride. No joy. Just simple affection. Nothing more than if Arthur were a peasant, not a King.

They stepped out onto the balcony of the castle and the people of Camelot went into an uproar of celebration, dancing, cheering, waving, and sobbing with the overwhelming pride, intimidation, awe and delight of their new ruler. A sudden burst of brilliant light filled their valley, and from that light, high in the air, every cloud was dismantled into wisps of white against a golden sky. The lullaby of Heaven swept down and over the people as music so surreal enchanted the hearts of many. Birds, arrayed in shining colours that changed from burning Autumn to reborn Spring, deep bronze to mellow green, shot over there outspread wings and backs as long tails of alien feathers showered over the people and birds rose up, shattered into thousands of pieces of glass which shined with the diamond-like light of the golden orb suspended above them.

Silence amazement filled the valley of Arthur's Kingdom.

Then the orb shrank, smaller and smaller, until a teardrop fell like a bullet, landing behind the King and pure love formed a beaming, impossible force of light and energy and sounds that surrounded Arthur and forever stayed. The King became not another man among men but a God-like force, which this inhuman presence of the magical gift forever gave him the appearance of. Merlin made Arthur a God that day.

The sound from the world around them was louder and brighter and brimming with more emotion than before. Arthur turned from his people, looked at Merlin, and smiled. Merlin merely nodded his head in acknowledgement. That was Merlin's gift forever more, even after the years of his life. Arthur always looked like a God among men. Yet the real God was his manservant.

From that day on, Camelot grew and prospered, from what Merlin was told. He paid little heed. The Power of the Throne was the making of songs and legend ages after Camelot became dust. Albion was reunited with the aid of magic and there was peace. Always peace. Merlin has done everything destiny required, and once, he was ready to leave. Ready to let the world he had come to know as home become a shadow of his former life and wander the world fruitlessly, power unlimited, a phantom of the night. But Merlin stayed for Arthur.

The King noticed the change in Merlin, saw how when danger stormed through the castle gates, Merlin did not rush to stop it unless Arthur sought the Warlock's aid. Merlin merely blinked and stood where he was, settled, as if it were only a menacing breeze. Arthur grew worried, grew enraged, and grew terrified. Never did Merlin suspect Arthur felt any of these things; he was just too distant.

Three times the anniversary of Gaius's death came to pass. Each time Merlin would take a lily to the old physician's gravesite and bless the flower in the magic of the old religion. The white petals would never fall, they would never whither, and they would never grow old. He laid it across the land and wept silently for the closest thing he had ever known to a father, after the passing of his true sire. His teacher was eternally at peace. Now four lilies slept blissfully above Gaius but not a single flower lay near the tomb of Uther. Only cold stone and icy gems lay there, wealth suffocating the spirit of the once King. Arthur never visited his father. Not in all the three years. Uther had lost his son's love many years ago, when Arthur learnt who his father really was.

Outside the realm of Camelot, Morgana could smile again. The oppression of Uther had dispersed and now she was free, as was all magic. She and her almost-son Mordred dwelt together, growing in strength and power together; Morgana still loyal to her friends, still loyal to her almost-brother Arthur, preventing the black storm clouds of hate from brewing, preventing Mordred's destiny of ending the life of the King of Camelot. It was Morgana's determination and power allowing Arthur to wake every morning. The Seer ate strawberries every day, turning the stalks into doves that flew off into the sunrise.

Gwendolyn gave birth to a bastard son. Together, the banished once Queen and once Knight raised their child in secrecy, loving him as parents should, never telling him of their dark, perilous pasts. That was, until after the child's second birthday, Lancelot was greeted by an old face. Guinevere was sincere and sweet, rich with the gifts of Lady Morgana, building her own life in the elegant wood where the Seer and her almost-son dwelt. Lancelot and Guinevere rekindled their lost passion, abandoning the once Queen to raise her son alone. Fate merely swept Her long train of lace over the world, singing 'what comes around goes around…' in Her bittersweet voice. Everywhere, babies bawled.

Lancelot has been cursed with carelessness by a cruel witch as he wandered the wild long ago, and so, he cared not for the pain of others, but for the desires of his own heart only. That was the reason he returned to Camelot in the first place, for Gwen. Only he found Gwendolyn, and thus he stole her. She held him at bay from taking her away from Arthur, refused to be unfaithful after their first time, until one day he confessed his love to the court, and Gwendolyn had the truth pulled from her lips. That was when Lancelot and Gwendolyn made their escape. The curse made Lancelot sweep the Gwen he always sought for off her feet and abandon his partner and child. The curse freed him from guilt as he a Guinevere lived their lives together and the curse stopped Lancelot telling Guinevere he had another woman and son he had left behind.

The same witch had watched from the shadows as this unfolded and now she stepped out into the light to play her part in this infinite plan.

The day comes about where I must settle into a time where this story can thus be told in linear form. The past has been told, the future prophesised and now you, my readership, will see everything unfold.

…………………………………………

Rubbing his temples, Arthur slouched against the step behind him, grimacing. He didn't sleep much anymore and it gave him the most terrible headaches. The cold marble made his legs go numb but the King insisted that he would not sit on his throne while his people came into his throne room and told of the many perils and disasters each were facing and thus came to seek the help of their King. Arthur sat on the steps that framed his throne so as to seem on the same level of hierarchy as them. What was a King without his people?

Merlin admired Arthur for these traits and many others like them. They were more and more reasons why Arthur was such a loved and prosperous King, but also why Merlin felt affection for him.

Approaching Arthur, Merlin lifted the King's face up to him by his chin. Looking into his eyes, Merlin's brows furrowed with disapproval. The King had large circles beneath his eyes. Merlin would have to make him a sleeping draught if he refused to put down his work and sleep earlier. Releasing Arthur's chin, Merlin instead rubbed his thumb over the Prince's brow line and sighed. Arthur smiled, his headache gone. Merlin raised an eyebrow,

"Let me know if the headaches get worse. I won't allow you to make yourself sick from lack of sleep". Arthur rolled his eyes,

"The Kingdom won't run itself," he paused, "Thank you, my friend". Merlin merely waved his hand in a dismissive way. Arthur did not know that Merlin hadn't merely made the headache disintegrate – he had taken it upon himself to bear the pain. As his temples throbbed, Merlin returned to his post at Arthur's throne side, in the blink of an eye.

The designating hour for the people to visit their King was almost over, yet the doors to the room were still swung open. Arthur glanced up and noticed a presence that had not been there the moment before. A figure stood in front of him, centre of the room, cloaked in shadow. Every pair of eyes in the room seemed to be unfocused when they stared directly at the stranger and not a sound was directed anywhere, not a word spoken… no one had even heard the woman come in. The only movement was Merlin stepping down to Arthur side, silent and unnoticed.

When she looked up, straight into the cerulean eyes of the King, an impossible glow radiated from her, casting out all other lights in the room. The sky itself seemed to darken. The hall gasped and instinctively shuffled away, murmuring outrage. The stranger was indeed a woman, a young one, perhaps a few years younger than Arthur himself was… when he was crowned Prince of Camelot!

There were many outrageous things about the woman in question, but the main thing was that she was completely naked, not even bearing a piece of jewellery. Her body was pale, like the halo of the moon, while her skin was specked with dots of red, nothing like spots or acne, more like marks. They looked to the untrained eye like, outrageously, specks of blood. She was thin, perhaps too thin, and her curves were underdeveloped despite her age. Hair surprisingly short and as scarlet as the Pendragon symbol framed deep, foreboding eyes, of a colour none could depict. A colour unknown to mankind. They spoken of a soul as gnarled and scorched by ill deeds and sin as perhaps that of what we have come to know as Satan. She stared at Arthur, hair hanging in front of her face, yet never covering her eyes.

Arthur rose steadily, feeling the thrum of energy that eradiated from her, a bad energy, stealing peace from the world around her. Arthur stood taller than her now, making her look up. She wore a mask of emotionless curiosity. Projecting his spirit out in front of his friend, Merlin became a shield of power around the King, preventing that energy from reaching him and Arthur felt the sigh in the air around him at Merlin's reaction, but made no movement of acknowledgement, keeping his gaze of this intriguing stranger. Arthur was not scared.

The woman felt the sudden obstacle in her path and blinked, turning her gaze to Merlin and raising an eyebrow. He growled a noise so low only those of great magical ability would feel the tremor in the air. Two others in the room, both sorcerers, shivered with the sound, but the woman's eyes fixed on a terrible colour. A green, so bright, it would be like neon to those in the modern age, but to the people of the throne room it was impossible and horrifying. Those eyes looked like the eyes of a beast, so feral and terrified, yet a graceful and proud predator, to the Warlock. Then she laughed. The sound made all in the room flinch except for the King and his manservant, who didn't move. It sounded like glass shattering and bone cracking and animals whimpering, yet all together in a grotesque mix of foulness.

"Who are you, demon?" Arthur's voice broke a trembling silence. Throughout her time in that room, no one stepped forward to remove her, even though they all sensed she was a threat. It was as if all order in Camelot had come apart at the seams.

The woman stared for a few more moments in silence at Merlin, who looked back with a blank glance. She sensed something about him, something vital… She turned to Arthur and smiled. It made Merlin growl again.

"O Great King, I kneel before you and all you mightiness…blah…blah...blah…" She mocked curtsying, losing control over her limbs and letting them sag, laughing wickedly, "I tire of these pointless meetings. Just because you have a shiny hat, you think you're better than everyone else. I hate monarchy".

Her voice sent a shockwave through Merlin, causing him to recoil his spirit from in front of Arthur, barricading his mind against horrific images that her words, mingled with her laughter, created. He saw her pale hand, dripping with the blood of a new born child, the baby's crying still lingering, her laughter everywhere and anywhere, surrounding him… He shivered, and Arthur, for one faltering second, turned to look to his friend, seeing and hearing and _feeling_ Merlin's distress. The Warlock released his spirit again for the King's protection, ignoring the stabbing pain his mind underwent as the images lingered. The woman's eyes closed a slit as she watched, her curiosity rising. This boy was affected so deeply by her malicious presence as soon as she got past his barriers with her voice, a trick he wasn't expecting. There really was something about this boy…

"You asked my name, yet I have many. Night-Stalker, Shadow-Walker, Moon-Sister, The Blood Baroness – That's one of my favourites – but I am also Death-Friend and Life Lost. Some have known me as Clementine, Sharlott and Meredith. Some merely call me Monster or Demon, like you so fondly chose. But you, Arthur Pendragon, you may call me Vivien".

Arthur just blinked but some were released from their enchantment of silence and began to murmur at the names she listed, at the possible things she could be…

"What do you want here?" Arthur continued, the same question always asked, always… Merlin descended further until he was stood directly in front of Arthur, not far, but still between his King and Vivien. She blinked,

"What does every evil sorcerer or sorceress who comes to Camelot want, Pendragon? To destroy it, of course. Or, with _such_ originality, to kill you. I'll settle for whichever you prefer, personally, I'm not fussed".

She smiled hellishly, and Merlin lashed out.


	3. Not

**I Willingly: Chapter Three**

"She is powerful". It wasn't a question, but the Warlock still replied,

"Yes". The King sighed, sheathing his sword and pulling his chainmail tighter. Watching, Merlin was silent and blank; he didn't want Arthur to see what emotions were erupting beneath his surface. He gave out a shaky breath without meaning to and carried on, "I am stronger than her. And you know it. Yet why have you not asked me to fight her, Arthur? Why are you going to fight her instead? She came here with the sole ambition of taking you away wherever the Hell she said she'd meet you, knowing full well you would sacrifice yourself over your Kingdom, and is preparing to do who knows what to you!"

Arthur hesitated as he fastened his armour and looked up at Merlin, staring deep into those sapphires, past the barriers and falseness into Merlin's soul, which was scratched and torn like a piece of old leather, worn and tired after so many ages. Merlin's mind and soul were centuries older than his body. Arthur saw all the doubt and pain Merlin felt and cupped the Warlock's face, watching Merlin's eyes shine.

"Because I will not make you do what you do not want to. If you wish to go fight to protect Camelot, then you would not be standing here right now. I know you, old friend. You have no faith in my people, in _our _people, yet you will not leave my side. You loyalty is inspiring, but I will not betray that loyalty. If you were to take my place, you risk harm and even death, and I shall not let you do so unwillingly. You protect me and me alone in these times, friend. But I protect my people".

"I know that, Arthur," Merlin replied, putting his hand over the King's, "But I cannot… Not anymore. I have been hurt so often, I have been injured, I have felt such pain…" he lowered his eyes, "I have lost faith, and it is true. The fight was never won. It always went on. I have killed so many… so many of my own kind! I have killed best friends and family. I will give no more".

"You do not have to explain to me, Merlin. I understand. That's why I do not ask you fight, and you know it". Merlin's eyes flickered with hurt,

"Please, Arthur". Arthur let go of Merlin and raised his hands in the air, his armour giggling,

"What, Merlin? What do you want me to do? Let Camelot burn? Let my people die? Just so I will be safe, their King, their leader! The one who is meant to protect them at all costs, Merlin!" The Warlock recoiled, more hurt by these words.

"You do not have an heir, my Liege! You may not return…" Arthur closed his eyes for a moment, replying in a low voice,

"We both know I am not returning, Merlin. And I leave my Kingdom in your hands. You know my court better then even I, you can sense people in a way I can only guess at and I trust you to choose a suitable successor. I had chosen you, friend, as my closest advisor as well as friend and damned be the rules of nobility and blood, I would have made you King. But your faith was lost long before my chances of an heir, long before my Queen was…" he went silent. Merlin touched Arthur's arm, eyes downcast,

"I would not be a good king. I have not seen battle as a King should, I do not fight the same way. My knowledge of your court is only to protect you. I am too battered to be any form of ruler. I am too headstrong – I jump too fast and follow my heart and not my head. It is you who tells me to think before I act in this age, Arthur. We balance one another out," Merlin looked up, determination burning in his eyes, "I am coming with you".

Arthur laughed a deep, heartfelt laugh and looked at Merlin with affection and admiration.

"I do not doubt it," he replied, "But I forbid it. You will stay, Merlin, you have much work to do. I must go and protect our land. You must give me something to protect". Merlin closed his eyes and every candle in the room jumped as the flames rose higher, threatening to catch all cloth and wood alight, while the fire behind them roared with such velocity, Arthur squinted at the explosive light. Amber danced over the walls and Merlin exhaled.

"You should chose you own successor, sire". Arthur flinched. Merlin only called him 'sire' when he was angry. "You should sort all these things out yourself! You should stay here, sire, you should stay and protect your Kingdom from behind your own walls!"

"I cannot!" Arthur balled up his fists and stared fiercely at Merlin. The fires fell back to their original state, the flammable materials of the room sighing with relief. "My successor should be my son! My _son_! But the Gods stole that away from me! I had a wife, a woman I loved, Merlin! I actually loved someone other-" he paused, humiliated but persistent, "I had the chance to have a son, to have my heir, but the Gods forbade me and the opportunity passed me by! Someone else stole my son, and now they live free somewhere and I have nothing, imprisoned in my duty!" He breathed deeply, "There is so much glory and honour to my name that I will be remembered _forever_ but for what!? My bloodline has ended! And I- I cannot chose another in the place of what should be my son!"

Merlin looked on as the Prince came pouring out from behind his flood gates, anguish and distress spluttering all over the place and the Warlock grew cold,

"Arthur-" he began but was cut short.

"No, Merlin! I would have chosen you as my successor, but that was back when I believed my heir would be but a few months away. Back before the marriage and the courting and that damned ball where she walked in, all her damned beauty and before…" He paused, taking a shaky breath, "Nay. I will not choose any man to replace what should be my flesh and blood. Because I have not met a man worthy of such a title. I see no Kings among my knights, nor among my nobles, nor even among the people of my land, of this valley, of any Kingdom, anywhere! None worthy to hold what a Pendragon should claim".

Merlin's eyes were shining again.

"Arthur…" he whispered.

"You will do it Merlin. You will choose. Because I will not. I will go and I will die for this land, for the land of my fathers, the land of my blood because I am the last damned person in the Pendragon bloodline and I will not die the death of an aged fool, bleeding internally on a bed in my cold castle; I will die a hero! I am a hero Merlin! And you will not wrap me in cotton because I am going to die a hero. You won't stop me". Arthur breathed deeply, refused to hold the gaze of his friend and returned to his armour, face turning paler and paler.

Merlin stood, mouth open to speak but words lost on the air, or stuck in his throat. He just stood and watched Arthur, every argument lost. The King was right. Try as he might, he couldn't protect Arthur forever. The King would die, presumably in some form of battle and one day Merlin wouldn't save him. The Warlock looked away and swallowed against the lump in his throat.

Arthur had almost died so many times, over so many years, and each time the truth came crashing down on Merlin. One day he would be too late. One day he would lose the battle. One day, Arthur would be gone, but Merlin would live on. That was his destiny. _Their_ destiny.

"I will not sit here while she destroys you". Merlin said, bluntly yet meaningfully. Arthur sighed.

"You are the servant and I the master, Merlin, not the other way around. You will do as I say," he smiled sadly, "And I thought you'd be relieved. No more of the exhausting chores you usually deal with, being my manservant and all. You'll be free. Don't worry, you'll be housed and paid 'til the end of your days. Of that I made sure. You may take the money and leave Camelot, should you wish it. I do not mind". Merlin's brows knitted together and he spoke as if Arthur had slapped him,

"I do not want your money! I want you to live! I have not been your servant for years, sire, you have hundreds of them! Do you not know me at all? Freedom is what you gave me, not deprived me of. I-I-" Arthur just looked at him, a look that was not anger or fear or even hurt. Just disappointment. Just shame. Arthur begged Merlin with his cerulean eyes. The Warlock stared, and then looked to the floor.

Arthur was telling Merlin to stay to keep him safe, more than anything. Merlin never understood that.

"Farewell, my old friend. I am honoured to have known you. And yet more honoured to have you be my servant. I shall miss you greatest of all". Arthur cupped Merlin's face with one hand, the other resting on the pommel of his sword that lay on his hip. Merlin didn't raise his eyes. Hurt flashed across the King's face, but he did not let it penetrate his voice as he let go of Merlin and opened the door. It was on one of the doors Merlin leant against, as if barring the way for Arthur to leave, so the King exited through the door beside it. He paused before he walked out, whispering, "Thank you, Merlin".

The Warlock never saw the affection etched across the King's features as he stole one last glance at his friend of old. Then Arthur was gone. His foot falls echoed down the hall then silence. The fire crackled. Somewhere, a rat nibbled a stray piece of bread. The moon rose as the sun fell. And Merlin… Merlin sighed, the world stretching into a long, dull landscape of misery and melancholy. Yet Merlin's emotions were brittle and fused into an apocalyptic stream of pain and worry.

"Last time you forbade me to go with you and I stayed behind, you almost died. How can you want me to allow that to happen again?"

……………………………………

_The sky was black. The sun had risen and the day had began yet to the world below it was as if Night had beaten away all light and was extending His stay. Lightening cracked the world in half occasionally, blinding those who weren't prepared. Nerves that were already raw were scraped against by the thunder which echoed like the drop of an axe in the valley. But there were greater sounds here, most horrific, more terrifying; enough to make men who have spent their entire lives fighting flee. _

_Men screamed. Swords sang. Arrows danced from side to side, swaying with the non-existent breeze. Incantations fell to whispers in the air. Ravens and crows squawked in anticipation of the glorious feast to come. Bodies fell in bloody, grotesque heaps and Fate cackled, oh so sweetly. _

_Merlin wandered the battlefield in his mind as he thought back. Two men were battling, one in red, one in blue, both skilled with a blade but not skilled enough. Somewhere from behind, a stray archer left from when his side's formation broke shot the man in red through the neck, liquid life squirting red against the black sky and the man falling, his blade useless, struggling for breath and making more blood pool beneath him. The other man stepped over him, thought not straying from action as he hacked into the back of another man, who wandered deaf and blind of the world around him – weapon-less also – calling for his mother. _

_Three crows had a war of their own over the bloody arm that was once attached to a man, but no more. The said man was shot down with arrows while he searched dumbly for his lost limb, which he never recovered. Most of the archers were dead, being stationed at the front of the blue side, foolishly, while the red archers were near the back. Still, few remained of both. The carcass of a horse, one of many, as the red side decidedly rode in on, was made an obstacle for a man of the blue side. It was decorated with missing arrows, which stood upright from its lifeless flesh, and thus when the man fell, one penetrated his chest and his lungs filled with blood. He suffocated before he bled to death. _

_The other man, one in red, just watched, not easing the passing of his brother. _

_The blue side brought fire, while the red side brought magicians. _

_The men that screamed loudest of all were those who were caught by the balls of flame that were hurled across the battlefield, scattering the formation of the other side and causing more casualties than fatalities. Men dropped and rolled, but the fire was unquenchable. The woods around the battlefield caught alight, causing stampedes as woodland animals fled the scene of catastrophic disaster. The golden flame contrasted with the black sky, light and dark, yet every man in red looked up wishing that the rain would fall and destroy the opposition. Merlin saw two men collide with one another in their blind agony as they were both alight and fall to the ground, writhing and making a high-pitched squeal, like that of a dying animal, while others just watched. One man raised his hand in an order for the others not to intervene, just watch as the men burned._

_Magic weaved throughout the field; Merlin could feel it, making his hair stand on end by the pure _power_ of it. The only women on the battlefield did not wear armour, they fought with only their minds, becoming puppeteers to the dead and reanimating them into perfect soldiers, one that would not stop no matter how much the live opponents hacked and stabbed. There were sorcerers of both gender, but the women were always more powerful. Horses without heads or with arrows protruding from their hides charged and trampled men to death. A female was shot down, an arrow getting past her guard and she screamed, greater than all the men, as her insides leaked onto her pale outsides. The Earth ripped itself apart, mourning her passing and she fell into a chasm of her own making. _

_Merlin watched, while the world around him burned and the sky above him screeched and flashed and the men beneath his screamed and Fate cackled. A tear fell down his cheek. War was dirty. Uncivilised. Suicidal. Scarring. Impossibly, tragically wrong. Merlin pitied the rest of his race, who felt war was essential. That they _needed_ to prove that they could earn glory, honour and remembrance. To prove to themselves and the rest of the world. But it was unnecessary. And bloody. So very bloody. _

_That Merlin knew, and for those lost souls he wept. He saw them rise from their empty bodies unto the light above, where delicate fingers brushed them and guided them to redemption. He saw them fall, clawing at their lifeless remains as claws gripped them tightly and dragged them to eternal damnation. War was something else. _

_Merlin saw demons and he saw angels. But what he looked for was a God. _

_Arthur fought with grace and brutality. The Warlock used to enjoy watching Arthur when he trained, but now he could not bear it. The King was a murderer, trained since birth, and he was bloody and violent when he stole souls from their physical being. He bathed in liquid life when he was on a battlefield. It was unsettling and petrifying. Merlin had seen this man break down and weep with fear and pain, had seen him overwhelming with guilt, pity and sorrow but now, Arthur did not bear any token of humanity and righteousness. He was beautifully wild. And he never sought forgiveness, nor did he regret a thing. _

_Enemy after enemy were slaughtered in an ongoing massacre, the bodies piling into a mound; a secure wall from which Arthur blocked out the world from behind, as he did when he wasn't on the battlefield. It hid his fear and his malice. No opponent was good enough to even challenge the King, and soon victory wavered because of one man. But then one stepped from the shadows of the flames. _

_Merlin had seen this face many a time, and it was because of this enemy he had rushed from his place by the empty throne to the battlefield, as he saw a vision, nothing like the Lady Morgana's visions, and saw Arthur fall for the last time in a great fight. And now it was in action. Fate clapped Her hands and Destiny merely swept through the battlefield, a Great Wind of Change, and He guided things as they lead out the predicted course. _

_Arthur turned, sweat dripping from his brow, splattered with rubies that beaded on his eyelashes. He blinked and they fell, like scarlet rain drops. His mouth parted as he panted and his armour was so heavy on his aching shoulders. Standing, legs apart, his sword falling lamely by his side as his arm rested, he looked with cerulean of curiosity and acknowledgment at the man in front of him. Composure lined his body, and there was no rigid or shaking part of him. It was the shape of a man who knew he was about to die. _

_Mordred had aged, roughly as old as Merlin was when he met Arthur for the first time, so long ago. He was clad in green, black leather draped from his broad shoulders and around his thick thighs. His hair was long, a midnight waterfall with jagged rocks at the base. His face was sallow and pale in the flashing lightning, paler then any who have appeared in this story so far. He was almost translucent. He wore no sword on his hip, no bow on his back, no knife in his boot – his weapon was concealed behind a pair of unstable beryl eyes. They were full of peril and black-hearted hatred and loss and agony and never-ending vengeful life! The energy rolling from him, like waves rolling around the sphere of the Earth as it orbits the Great Orb of the Sun! It overwhelmed Merlin, who had to watch through slits as Mordred raised his hands and pointed, fingers blasphemous and accusing, his voice laced with venom,_

"Murderer!"_ He whispered, more perilous than any shout of screech he could have unleashed. Arthur sheathed his blade and looked at Mordred, only pity in his eyes, the flames making cerulean dance with specks of gold. Arthur sighed, a long, final sigh and said two words._

"_Forgive me". Mordred didn't even glare, he just looked. But the fierce energy of his eyes! _

"_Never". He balled his fists, his face grimacing with pain as he unleashed the inner Demon caged inside his soul, the very Creature that gives birth to magic as powerful as that inside such impossible Warlocks as Mordred, and as his kin, Merlin. A great white light filled the valley and Arthur close his eyes, waiting for the final stroke of the blade, in the form of a tormented, vengeful soul. Mordred screamed in excruciating agony as the Beast left its cage, shredding as it went, and slammed into Mordred's sides on the way out, lost and dazed but so alive! Oh, freedom! Piercing the world, a powerful force rippled through the air and all in the valley fell, knocked dead by the silence the Monster roared. It sped with determination at its target, and wrapped it vine-like tendrils around Arthur's insignificant frame, pulling the King skyward._

_It clawed at Arthur's very being with its silence but the King was strong, stronger than anticipated. Together they reached the very clouds themselves, but then a stronger light filled the valley, a beautiful, pure light, one that has suffered greater torture than anything Mordred had known and up, from the wall of flame, rose the Creature of Merlin's soul. This Demon was made of the very foundations of the Earth and the sky and life itself, bringing all those Mordred's Monster had killed back to life, breathing their existence back into them, but leaving them unconscious as the tiny minds of warriors cannot bear the immense power of what was about to occur. _

_The soul of Merlin was the same as that of a dragon, so angelic yet so demonic, and its might and majesty overwhelmed that of Mordred's tiny pin prick of light and engulfed the Monster, encaging the Beast with all the rage and agony and hopelessness of a truly broken heart, one that suffers every day, worst then the last, yet utters not a whimper of reflection to the world beyond the barriers of his mind. Merlin's pain annihilated Mordred and the boy screamed greater than before, the silent form of Arthur ripped from its bruised clutches. The King didn't open his eyes, but he felt everything. Felt every pain either of the men had ever known and Arthur wept mentally, wept in despair. _

_The soul of Merlin touched the clouds and unleashed a shower of spears the size of raindrops, tipped with Misery and they rained down upon Mordred, scarring his fragile soul and forcing more screams from his unprotected human body. He tried to retreat but caged animals do not often like returning to imprisonment. The black dust of Sorrow coated Mordred's Monster and slowly began to dissolve, increasing the wounded man's pain, and forcing the monster to writhe in an attempt to be rid of it. The rain ceased and snow fell instead, bitterly cold and rich in Gloom, forming stunning patterns of Melancholy on the surface of the world and Merlin gave a great sigh. _

_The Warlock had not made a sound when he released his Demon, at one with himself, as he had been for many a year. _

_Mordred fell back into his physical form and was dashed to the ground, convulsing violently as the pain bounced about his insides, unable to escape, in the very material of his soul. His screams still echo through the darkest part of the forest surrounding that once battlefield. Arthur was brought slowly back to the ground where he was laid down, as gently as a mother kisses the forehead of her sleeping child. Merlin embraced his soul, the world becoming as dark as the blackest pits of Hell, rain falling like traitorous daggers in the night. _

_Merlin knelt beside his King and put a pale hand to his friend's icy skin. Arthur inhaled sharply, his eyes flinching beneath their lids, but he did not awake. The King's mind screamed with all he had witness, and Merlin bent and kissed the forehead of the victimised King, erasing all the pain he had paid witness to and putting the King at ease. Arthur relaxed, his breathing became shallower and he rested, as he hadn't done in a long time. _

_The Warlock turned to the other Warlock, and Merlin too kissed the brow of Mordred, the child so tortured and tormented by a past unforgivable. Merlin stilled Mordred's convulsions and the agony dispersed into the Earth, into the flames and back into Merlin himself. That way, the man would live. Darkness would forever haunt Mordred's mind, and his soul would never stop raging against its master, an eternal Monster, but Merlin did what he could for his mortal enemy. Not because he wanted to, but because it would have been what Gaius would have done. As he stepped back, the dark stranger opened his eyes and rose to his feet, beryls burning into sapphires with a fierce fear. _

"_Emrys…" _

"_Do not name me so, child. I am not that to you anymore. I understand you were wronged, but should you hurt the King again, or even attempt to, I will obliterate your existence from this Earth". Merlin had no emotion in his voice – just facts. Mordred stared, terrified by what looked back. The crack of a whip, the screech of a woman and the slap of a hand. Merlin blinked and the Seer was standing in front of him, glaring with not an ounce of horror or fear. She had slapped him, her hand forceful but trembling. She grasped the sides of her almost-son and said not a word. _

_She did not hate Merlin, but she would not forgive this. This was the first time they had seen each other since the murder of Uther, and still not a word had passed between them since she had warned Merlin on the worse day of his life. A look passed between them. One acknowledging the past but forbidding a future. Morgana had changed sides, and thus it would always be. Merlin had no choice but to lose her. Perhaps it was Fate idea of Karma again. Merlin had killed Morgana before this day._

_He nodded, and she glanced away. She knew Mordred had slipped past her to try and kill Arthur, but she had not foreseen it or he wouldn't have gotten as far as the battlefield, wouldn't have whispers lies into the blue side's ears. But he did, and Arthur almost died. Morgana knew he had to have been stopped and so he should have, so she did not attack Merlin, but she did not punish Mordred. She was neutral in this battle. Merlin had almost killed but then saved Mordred. She owed him the life of her almost-son – that is why, years earlier, her instincts told her to come to Merlin at a wedding and warn him of what she had seen. That and pity. Morgana was partly in the present, partly in the future. Always. _

_Mordred pushes her aside and looked straight into Merlin's eyes and the Warlocks both know this will be the last time they meet. Arthur shall meet his end some other way, and so shall Merlin, and Mordred embraces Morgana, and then in another blink of time, they are gone. This is where they retreat into the woods near Guinevere's home and eat strawberries and help lost souls and live in peace, Morgana keeping Mordred's black heart at bay. _

_That was the last time Merlin and Arthur were in the presence of the Lady Morgana, and sadly, the last time she shall appear in our tale. _

_Merlin knelt beside Arthur and smiled. But deep inside him crumbled with dread._

_The Warlock had been preparing for this moment his entire life, knowing Mordred would be the end of Arthur, and fearing it so often. Yet it had come and passed and Arthur yet lived, leaving the question of how Arthur would perish, and when? Could Merlin stop it like he had this? Arthur was meant to die that day but Merlin had changed the course of destiny for so many, what consequences would that have? _

_No matter what, Merlin would not risk staying behind while Arthur confronted his death. Merlin would ride in secret, and this is why, in the chamber of the King, many years from now, while Arthur says goodbye, Merlin doesn't reply. Because it isn't goodbye. Merlin is going with Arthur, and that's the end of it. _

…………………………………………

Upon a stallion of chestnut, the King rode alone out of the valley in silence, the sunset behind him lighting his home, his Kingdom, his life of Camelot beautifully. One final glance and one final sigh and Arthur leaves the valley he claims as his own to meet with Vivien, a Witch, Demon and Abomination that will become his next enemy.

Close behind, walking by foot, not a bag on his back, not a sword by his hip, Merlin walks in silence and in bare feet, the world around him swaying and rustling to cover every movement he makes. He is like a spirit of the forest. To think, once, long ago, he was so clumsy and inconsiderate that he couldn't even walk straight. How much he had changed… He chuckles quietly, sounding like a stray breeze through the falling leaves of Autumn.

Arthur smiled, recognising the sound as much as his own breathing and sighed. He knew Merlin would follow; he never listened to a thing Arthur said. He just hoped Merlin wouldn't have to watch him die.


	4. The

**I Willingly: Chapter Four**

Naturally, the meeting point was a cave. Why was it always some form of cave? Under a waterfall, in the middle of a forest, hidden behind some lake… It grew tiresome, that's for sure. But sure enough, here it was, vast and ominous, like a gaping mouth to damnation. Arthur sighed and patted the neck of his horse. The stallion was a faithful one and had been the only horse of the King for a long time. Taking off his riding equipment, Arthur piled them by the cave mouth and patted the back of his horse,

"Go on, back home with you! This'll be the last time I see you, friend. Off with you!" The horse jumped forward a few paces then turned around and looked straight at Arthur in a haunting way, sensing his doom and brushing his nose against the King's forehead, the stallion cantered off back into the surrounding woods. Arthur sighed sadly. But of course, it was another cave in the woods. As per usual.

Arthur stared into the darkness for a few moments then closed his aching eyes. He had ridden hard since sunrise, right through the night and again the next morning, until he had reached this place at midday. The stallion was not best pleased but it never questions its master's actions – Arthur was usually rushing to or from great peril at times like those and he needed haste. The stallion was never hurt in these confrontations and thus happy to oblige.

"He'll make it home okay," said a voice so close to him, Arthur sighed. It was a warm voice, rich with affection. Arthur sighed, although not sadly. "He knows the way". Merlin's cold fingertips brushed the back of Arthur's neck and made him shiver, but warmth spread through him instead of chill. The aching of his aging body left him and he felt a new burst of energy, his spirit lifted. He sighed again and turned around, greeted by a face he knew better than his own. Sapphires soothed him.

"Will you always be so stubborn?"

"Did you ever get bored?" Merlin replied, a coy smile tugging at his lips. Arthur rolled his eyes, remembering a past conversation,

"Not once". Merlin grinned his idiotic grin which hadn't surfaced for so very long,

"Then it's a good job I stayed stubborn". Arthur pushed him playfully, feeling over a decade younger, maybe two, back when there was such glorious banter between the two young boys, always playing and laughing, pretending to hate each other while going out of the way to protect and even die for one another. Those were such innocent times. Like the sugar coating of a pill, the bitter addictive truth underneath. Merlin pushed back.

"You're the worst splinter I've ever had, my friend". Merlin chuckled and moved to the other side of the King,

"Then perhaps you should just chop off your finger and be rid of me. However, it wouldn't be so painful if you just put up with me". Arthur sighed happily, smiling despite the situation facing them.

"Everytime I try, you change to another finger. I'll end up losing both my hands before I can get a moment's peace". Merlin cocked his head,

"Personally, I think you cut off the wrong finger. You're an idiot like that sometimes". Arthur scowled and growled deep in his throat,

"_I'm_ an idiot?" he all but shouted, outraged. He reached out to tackle his old friend to the ground but Merlin just snickered, there one second but gone the next. Embracing thin air, Arthur's brows furrowed and he spun around to see Merlin standing a few feet away, giving a little wave. "That's not fair! That's cheating!" Merlin pretended to act hurt,

"I didn't know we were playing a game!" he replied, before chuckling again and disappearing. Raising an eyebrow, the King made a full circle, looking for the Warlock yet it appeared Merlin had disappeared completely. Whining slightly, Arthur called out his manservant's name. There was no reply. Then soft breathing on his neck sent another shiver down Arthur's spine and Merlin whispered,

"I thought you didn't want me here, yet when I am gone, you call me back. What a puzzle you are, you're Highness". Arthur smiled, but frowned,

"Don't call me that".

"Why not?" Merlin replied, genuinely intrigued

"Because you never have before. And you're my equal, it is unsettling". Merlin placed a hand on Arthur's waist, merely a gesture of respect, but it made the King's eyes flutter shut,

"Forgive me," And Arthur did. "But, if we are equals, then you contradict yourself. You cannot forbid me from accompanying you to your doom if you are my friend and not my master". Arthur frowned, "Therefore, I'm coming with you".

Sighing, Arthur turned around, surprisingly close to the Warlock.

"No, Merlin. You will not follow me into that cave. Promise me". Merlin's eyes became slits and his smile was gone. "Promise me, Merlin!" Sighing, the Warlock stepped back several paces, the air suddenly cold around the King, but Arthur didn't utter his regret. Merlin glared at the King but did as he was told.

"I promise, sire". Arthur nodded, confirming to himself that he was doing the right thing. That was his last stolen moment of recklessness, now he had a duty to do.

"Your magic will hold you to your word, Warlock. Now stay if you wish, but I don't doubt that I won't be coming out of that darkness. You may as well head home. The journey won't be long for someone like yourself. Especially without a King to guard along the way". With that, Arthur walked from the wood - with its pine-filled air, full of bird song and with the sun catching the last few green leaves as it shone through the trees, with a bed of bronze and scarlet beneath the trees, so as to catch the sun and hold it tight, being the giver of life to such a landscape. He walked into damp darkness, with stale air and blindness, moving with your fingertips, with your ears as the only warnings of danger.

That was until an orb of pure light floated into his line of sight and Arthur sighed, turning back and seeing a spot of light behind him – the cave entrance - with a figure standing in the light. Despite the Warlock not following, only sending light, Arthur sent the blessing back and carried on alone. The King needed no aid.

Merlin sighed as the ball of light danced near the entrance of the cave, watching frustratingly as Arthur fell deeper into darkness until he was gone. He couldn't follow, that the Warlock was unfortunately sworn to, but who knew Merlin's magic better than Merlin himself? Say, if he was just going for a stroll, with no intention of actually _following _Arthur, just wandered curiously through the cave to see what he could see and then he _happened_ to come across the King… Merlin smiled, cleared his throat, and began to wander, light bobbing beside him.

………………………………………

It seemed like the darkness went on for eternity, as if Arthur was walking, hunched and blind, down a stone path that lead to the centre of the Earth itself. His breathing became raspy, whether it was because of these thoughts or because the air was actually thinning, he did not know nor want to know. He didn't need to be hunched, that was for definite, because the opening through which he was walking could fit over twenty men abreast down it. He squinted and stopped, unsure whether his mind was playing with him or if he could actually see something beside blackness. There was a faint glow in the distance, like light shining through your eyelids should you close them in the day.

He took a few more steps and the light grew slightly and Arthur sighed with relief. It was really there. He could make out an exit ahead, huge yet full of light… this strange glowing. Arthur's relief left him like blood draining from heated cheeks and suddenly, he was filled with dread. That glow was that of the Demon, of Vivien, and she was just ahead, perhaps a few minutes' walk. Inhaling and exhaling deeply, the King continued forward, keeping his fingertips on the stone to one side of the path.

He stumbled suddenly, his hand touching thin air. There was a gap in the wall! Arthur turned and stared, but only silence and darkness, a great void of hollow lifelessness, stared back. He continued forward, waiting for his hand to touch solid rock again, and after a moment it did. The gap was vast! It was, in fact, vaster then the path he was walking on, and could fit over thirty men abreast, with armour and weapons alike.

Following the light, Arthur soon could make out the rocky edges of an opening, surprised as he suddenly saw the size of the pathway he had been walking down. He walked without the aid of the wall, hand resting on the pommel of his sword in anticipation, with eyes darting about. Without warning, the glow was gone. Arthur merely paused, startled, then continued by memory. His foot fell as he came out on the other side, an unexpected drop from the path onto smooth, worn floor.

The cave wasn't as vast as should be expected. That was the first thing to strike Arthur. It was perhaps the size of four of his throne room placed next to one another, while he had expected at least eight. The next thing he noticed was the bizarre marking on the walls and on the ceilings… Deep, violent gauges in the rock, as if made by limitless claws of iron or ivory. They seemed to have carved out this very room, yet various places were worn and smooth like the surface of a precious gemstone, the result of timeless erosion where the cave had been put to use.

The next thing Arthur noticed was Vivien. He stood, gazing, transfixed, in disgust, horror and absolute bewilderment. The King was intrigued. But also, although he would not admit it, he was trembling mentally with fear.

Beneath as crack in the wall of the cave, there was a large basin-like pit in the floor, which had another crack in at the bottom, for draining. Streaming, with the pressure of a river, yet with the obedience of a falling leaf pulled by gravity, the constant flow of deep scarlet filled the basin as it fell, showering from above in a great wave that never ended. Rubies dripped upon the base of the cave, beyond the barriers of the basin, but with the blink of an eye they had disappeared, most certainly by magic. The stench was intoxicating and repulsive, the smell of liquid life in such high quantity, bleeding from the rock.

Yet the most unsettling image of all was that of Vivien, standing beneath the gash in the rock-face, feet swirling the pool of scarlet in the basin, as the Demon showered in blood.

There was not an inch of pale skin on her slim body, not a sign of marble figure she had possessed only days before. Her entire being was scarlet, covered in dazzling rubies that shone as her unnatural and surreal glow filtered through them, making patterns of magnificent origin dance along the walls. It was like she was melting, the beads of blood falling from her waterproof skin, dripping down like teardrops, full of pain, but not Vivien's. The blood was by all means human, the stench was enough to prove that, but she smiled and swayed beneath the flow, mouth opening occasionally as she swallowed the deliciousness of liquid life.

Arthur couldn't move, horrified yet intrigued. She was so beautiful, so impossibly beautiful, as she luxuriated in death. He felt his heart drumming in his temples, each beat causing pain, yet he didn't grimace or flinch or even blink. His feet were lead, his muscles ice and his eyes were poisoned, seemingly eternally paralyzed. Then her eyes opened, and looked directly at him, stopping only when she searched his soul. His mind cried out in pain but he uttered not a word.

She stepped forward, blood raining down from her, as if she were an apocalyptic storm, pouring from her in raindrops as she gave back that which she had consumed. She smiled brilliantly, teeth like rubies, and she raised her arms, seemingly to welcome him. Fire ascended from nothing, as if the candles were merely missing, and there was light beyond that of the Demon's glow. Arthur recoiled mentally, but his curiosity grew as he perceived for the first time that she did not have a shadow. Perhaps it was because she seemed to be made of light.

"Well-met, Pendragon," she said, her voice seemingly painful, not to his ears, but to his mind. His temples throbbed more excruciatingly than before. It was different from the last time. Merlin wasn't shielding him now. "Welcome to my humble abode. You're early, but I love a man who's punctual". She smiled again, sending shivered through Arthur mentally, as the man still had not moved. Turning her back to him, she dripped as she moved about, yet moments later the blood was gone from the cave floor.

"I have come, as you wished. Do with me what you will, but my Kingdom will be spared". She waved a hand back at him in a dismissive fashion, and Arthur took deep breaths, grateful to be able to move once again.

"Of course, of course. But business can come later. Come, let us talk! It's not often I have the honour of entertaining guests, let alone royalty!" she turned back grinning, "Can I get you something to drink?" she said, voice full of menace. Arthur instinctively glanced at the still gushing shower of blood and glared back at the Demon, collecting his natural strength back. She laughed wickedly. Then she continued, seemingly to herself, "Back in Camelot Sunday-school, did you learn of the time of the Great Worms, Pendragon?"Arthur didn't reply. "I'm sure you did.

"They were glorious creatures, proud and majestic. They were also completely hideous, none of the beauty their flying kin share. They could not fly, you know, slithering on the ground with such speed and agility they were unnoticeable, such noble predators! They were all flame and poisonous gases and such; and they had such a repulsive odour! Slime lined their underneath and often all sorts of nasty things would cling to them. They were horrific but magnificent, of that there is no doubt". She paused and sighed happily, twirling around the flames she had created, elegant as can be. Compared to her last meeting with the King, she appeared to be lacking the same power. Little did he know she was reserving her strength…

"Why are you telling me this?" Arthur asked, quiet and guarded. She glanced at him, freezing his insides and laughed again,

"Patient, boy! I'll get there in the end! Now, where was I?" She paused, and continued, "They were magical. None of this tame, childish tricks sort of magic, but true, dark, wild magic! They inspired fear. The world around their dens would be barren and wasted; life non-existent and silence blissful. This was a Worm's den, this very cave. You have surely noticed the claw marks. Worms were bad-tempered," She grinned knowingly, "They liked to live underground, like we are now. It wasn't until their species grew wings that they preferred the chilly mountains. Nay, the dragons originally loved warmth, preferring to lie on the crust of a volcano then the icy summit of a rock giant.

"This cave belonged to perhaps the greatest of the Worms, and also the first of them. No one knows how, but he was the first. The thing people never knew about Worms was that they could transform into human form, living among us, choosing their victims, enticing them away from the rest of the herd and then slaughtering them. It used to be all baby blood, all the time…" She smiled contentedly at the memory, "And the Worms could sire children, although it was rare it could happen. Only female children, only ever daughters. Now, to have a human mother made the daughters a new race, unable to take the form of dragons but something entirely new!"

Giggling, she twirled, the blood hitting the walls repulsively, gone the next second. Arthur stared at her, murmuring,

"You are a Dragon-Child". She scowled at him,

"So you do have some logical brains in your head, Pendragon. Congratulations. You wished to know who I was, and now you do. We are not _Dragon-Children_. We have style, you know! I am one of the Gwaed. The greatest of them, in fact. My sisters are so greedy and blind, but I am something brilliant, descended from the best of the best! I am new. But I'll come back to that, anyway," She paused, grinning with her rubies, "I killed my mother three months into pregnancy and the Worm took me away, raising me as one of his own race. This here, as you'll have noticed," she indicated to the shower, "Was the Worm's river from which he drank. I inherited the dragons' bloodlust, as all my sisters also have. Do not ask me whose blood it is, or where it comes from. Dark, wild magic!" she cackled, "I share the power of the Worms, if but a fraction of their might.

"I do not lower myself to bear the same traits as mankind. I do not where clothes. I do not eat or drink. I do not sleep. People do not know I exist and it is rare I use this tongue at all. My sisters and I speak in the tongue of the Worms, such an ancient and powerful race! My eyes are that of my fathers, becoming whatever I wish them to be. And I am light, am I not? That is because I have no physical form, Pendragon. I am more in your mind then in this realm, I dwell in another, and much like the Worms did".

She paused, looking expectedly at Arthur, who just stared at her. Eventually, he said,

"The Worms were hundreds, if not thousands of years ago". She laughed a startling sound if ever there was one.

"You ageist!" she shook her head and Arthur frowned at the word, "I am an old bird, it's true. But surely you know what happened to the Worms, don't you?" She grinned, and then grimaced, thinking back, "That witch came along, the first priestess of the old religion, back when magic first came to dwell in humans. She begged and pleaded with the Worm race to pledge themselves to the old religion, and they did, gaining the so called 'blessings' of flight and foresight, losing their former glory and wisdom, resorting more to beasts than anything else. It was pathetic. And thus, I killed my father before he could turn, as he planned to. No sire of mine would be stooping so low. That is why the forest outside is so blessed and prosperous. From the ashes of a dragon comes the birth of a new world. Life from death," she sneered, "How _poetic_!

"If only you could have seen them, Arthur! They were magnificent! So proud!" she sighed, sadly. "And now, my race is alone. The Gwaed are alone. A species of female, with no males to create a new generation, as the dragons lost the honour of becoming men, trapped in this realm and in that form when they joined the old religion. And I can have no children. I can sire no younglings. I am alone, Arthur! Do you know what that is like, to be so utterly and completely alone?"

Dropping his eyes, Arthur felt suddenly isolated, looking at this terrifyingly beautiful creature, so human yet so not, and understanding it.

"I have an idea what it is like, Vivien," he whispered and she cocked her head, raising an eyebrow.

"Interesting. But you can have no idea. Not loneliness like I speak of. But I'm clever! I'm new and I'm clever and I figured it out, Arthur! A way around the sterile lack of growth in my race! Do you want to hear what I discovered? Do you want to know why you're here?" Arthur blinked at the floor and she grinned, "Because I will sire a son! The first Gwaedoliaeth! Think about it, I could save my race, I could change everything! I could have a son!" She beamed horrifically and the King stared, disturbed and amazed.

"How?" Arthur said without meaning to and her eyes fixed to violet, so deep and dark and perfectly painful, Arthur gasped. Those were Gwendolyn's eyes. He felt the wave of grief and pain shatter his fragile frame and he fell to his knees, startled and agonised. Vivien cocked her head, smiling bitterly.

"To create a son from myself by using the one human thing that can enter my home realm, what you would call the Spirit Realm. Your soul. It has to have been tortured and scarred and burned and hurt in so many ways that it will be broken, just like the fragile form of my mother, as she did not willingly bear the child of the Worm, as the human women never do. And this is where you come in, Arthur. Your story is one to live through the ages of this world," she giggled gleefully, excitement in all her actions as she swayed around him, "A tale of love, terrifying love, betwixt you and Lady Gwendolyn and then the heated affair of your Queen and your most loyal knight! The pregnancy! The lies! The pain! And then the forbidden couple running away, into the sunset, oh! How inspiring! How gloriously agonising it must have been for you, the one left behind! The scars you must bear, Arthur!

"You soul will have been torn and shredded in ways I cannot imagine. And who better to help me sire my son then a King, blood as rich as that which I bath in. Your soul will make for a great warrior, the first of a new race, just like my father. It will be the new beginning!"

Arthur just stared at her, fear trembling across his features.

"You will steal my soul…" he whispered and she fell to her knees and looked deep into his eyes, rubbing salt into old wounds with her violet eyes. She spoke softly, but cruelly,

"Arthur, it was I who ripped your soul. I took away the barriers preventing Gwendolyn and Lancelot being together. I am the one who broke your heart. And now, I will take the pain away. Just go to sleep, Arthur, and then it will be gone. No more hurting. Just numbness, blissful numbness…"

Arthur stared into her eyes and he believed her. It would be wonderful, to be free of her, to never know the pain of Gwendolyn again. Indeed, it would be blissful… He was just so tired. He wanted to sleep. The King's vision blurred as tears ripped scars through his cheeks, dropping onto the floor and disappearing in an instant, like the rubies, only these were diamonds. Beautiful diamonds…

Arthur closed his eyes.

Vivien closed her eyes.

Arthur prepared himself to let go of it all. Just to let go.

Vivien reached out to touch Arthur. Just one touch.

Arthur took in his last breath, saying goodbye to the world.

Vivien took in a laboured breath, preparing the incantation to bring her son into the world.

Merlin stepped into the room in silence. The temperature became icy. The fires died. The blood stopped flowing. Vivien's eyes burst open and she screamed, a sound so horrifying, so chilling, so deliciously feeble that Arthur was physically thrown back, hitting the wall, the back of head making a disheartening crack against the stone and pulling the breath from Merlin's lungs. Arthur groaned, leaning forward and opened his eyes, hands instinctively going to wound and coming back scarlet, as if he wearing a glove of rubies. He stared, shocked and then was startled by the sudden blackness. The only light in the room was Vivien, glowing her disturbing scarlet in the vast abyss of the dark cave.

But then there was another light, burning amber light, impossibly fierce and blinding. Arthur shadowed his eyes with his bloody hand and looked upon the face of Merlin, for the first time truly terrified by the power his friend possessed. There was an inner fire to Merlin, the consuming, celestial force of a Beast from beyond the fabric of this world. It drained its energy force from other realms and other dimensions, the ones Merlin's mind had visited over so many years, preparing for this moment without realising. His entire power, all that energy, everything he possessed – life and death, victory and disaster, glory and misery, laughter and screams – all of it was absorbed by the world around him, hollowing the Warlock out as he cocooned it around Arthur, a impenetrable wall of pure, blissful life!

Merlin stared blankly, eyes drooping with exhaustion, unlimited suffering etching onto his face as all his strength left him and his barrier became someone else's. Merlin became nothing; he became human. His eyes dulled and Arthur was horrified. The King could not be touched by the Warlock who was now a greater target than ever. And he was defenceless.

Vivien lay on the floor, lips pulled back in a feral snarl as she hissed, body standing at odd angles, ready to attack. Thick spikes rose from the crooks of her spine, lining her back in a horrifying, grotesque form, as black as the endless void of the darkness around them. She stared at Merlin, eyes turning to brilliant blue, breath-taking cerulean pools and Merlin flinched. Arthur knelt, dumb-struck, bleeding and lost. He had never seen Merlin react like that before, never seen him affected by an enemy but he _flinched! _This was bad. This was really, really bad.

Vivien spoke, her voice suddenly mightier, taking on a demonic force as fear wrapped around her impossible form, like a ribbon, tying back all those lose hairs. Her eye were slits, spikes growing with hatred, and her ruby-like teeth exposed, the black poison dripping from her tongue,

"_I knew there was something about you, Warlock! You possess the power of more than the old religion! Your soul, your mind, your everything is as mighty as perhaps even the Worms themselves! Dark, wild magic! But there is something more!_" She pointed one of her fingers, bitter and accusing, so like Mordred so long ago, "_Your soul is in pieces! The scars, oh Gods, the scars you bear! I can see them, so deep, so long! The suffering you have undergone is unimaginable!" _she edged closer along the ground, always looking up at him, eyes wide now in lust "_Let me see! Let me see how you scars came into existence!"_

Merlin stumbled forward, mind blank and lacking logic… he just had to protect the King, whatever it took. And Arthur shouted, panicking,

"Merlin, stop!" Merlin took another step towards her, her eyes beady with excitement and awe "_Stop!"_

The world around Arthur swayed as he struggled to rise, his eyes lacking focus and the throbbing in his temples spreading to the back of his head, where he bled from the gash in his flesh. Stumbling onto his legs and standing, Arthur rushed forward in a feeble attempt to grasp the Warlock by his skinny frame and haul him out of Vivien's deadly reach, but the King's vision was assaulted by a black rose that blossomed unexpected into his sight, petals spreading out as it opened, the darkness taking over. When he again came to, he was again on the floor and he was staring into a pair of beautiful amber eyes.

For one moment, he came to the conclusion he was looking into the eyes of the Demon, the Dragon-Child, the Gwaed, and that he had missed everything as he had fallen into unconsciousness and that Merlin was dead, lying lifeless, murdered by this creature which would now take the King's soul. Mentally, Arthur cried with horror and grief. But then it struck him that he knew those eyes, despite not having seen them for many a year. They belonged to Merlin – the glow of magic that shined through only when his unique wild magic spilt forth unto the world, untamed and surreal. Long ago, Merlin's eyes had become permanently sapphire as he became one with his magic; they didn't even change when he used no incantations.

Merlin was staring Arthur down and the King realised it was Merlin who had momentarily stolen his consciousness. It was this prison of energy cocooned around him, a force that Arthur could not overcome, and a permanent barrier between the friends of old.

To think, once ago - seemingly a lifetime ago, in fact – upon their first meeting, there had been so much uproar at the term 'friend' between the Prince and the Physician's Apprentice, yet now they were so much more…

Merlin smiled and Arthur's heart was silenced, the King becoming numb, staring as everything disappeared, as the world crumbled away in an instant and there was a hollow, constant silence. The King's face crinkled with pain at such a smile, for it was an omen, a sign, a warning… Merlin had not smiled like that also in many a year. The past was rising before their eyes because the future was wasting away to nothingness. It was not Arthur that would not walk from this rocky tomb, but the one person Arthur had not even considered living without from the very moment they met.

Merlin's eyes closed, the amber river ceased all flowing, the magic hiccupped in both outrage and agony as Vivien placed nothing but one fingertip upon the Warlock's bare chest, above the collar of his tunic. She gasped, eyes closing in ecstasy and Arthur was rigid. He could do nothing but watch – of that Merlin had made sure of. She laughed quietly, taken aback but on the greatest high of her life.

Oh, what words could describe what she saw! An attack of images and feelings, thoughts and ideas, tragedies and victories, lost and gained, bombarding her mind; never had she felt so alive! The power of it made her tremble, yet she laid her whole hand down flat on his naked skin and she indulged in the torture he had endured, so engulfed that she wouldn't have noticed had the apocalypse arrived then and there in that realm.

Merlin flinched, the second time a cry of pain escaping his lips, as if he had fallen into a pool of boiling water, his flesh searing from his bones. Her touch was so, a white-hot probe piercing through his mind, destroying his memories, his emotions, his self-control and destroying such a carefully composed nature. His legs wobbled and Arthur was distressed and disturbed… never had he seen his friend like this, not in this age at least.

"_Such delicious pain!"_ she cried, reaching the height of her life. She opened her eyes and they changed uncontrollably like never before, setting more on black than any other colour. How original. "_Oh, Gods, the agony, the torment, the suffering! There cannot truly be words for this! What you have gone through, my perfect, ill-fated Merlin! Oh my!_" She looked to Arthur, face full of thrill. Yet her eyes looked…sad. Something that startled Arthur more than her fear and her pleasure and her grotesque joy was watching her feel pity.

Merlin cried out again, arms reaching out to grasp the arm connected to him but as more of his skin came into contact with her, he pulled back, stung, and felt as if he should be bleeding. He regretted his actions immediately. Arthur could not move. The Demon continued,

"_You came to Camelot, so lost, so afraid… so easy to deceive. And that you were, oh my! You fell… so very far, such a deep, dark, terrifying fall… and you loved! OH! You loved the one who you were forbidden to, for so many reasons, how could you! Arthur never knew, but he held your heart, your life, your very soul in his palms since that moment and what a gift! What a blessing, Merlin! You honoured him and he never knew… The pain you went through for him… You were hurt, physically, emotionally, spiritually… Oh… You killed so many; you killed your best friend! You killed family… And l-lovers… You stained your soul for him! And you died, oh, the fear your body concocted, so mouth-watering!_

"_You lost everything; you gave it all up and for what? So you could lie to him? He never knew the real you for years! And then, then you had to watch him love another… Ah, and that is where the damage was done! You family, your closest friends, your world was pushed away by him whom you adored more than any and he was the one who dealt the death-blow to your soul, Merlin. You had to smile at his wedding… And when she left, you felt his pain, his grief, but not his hate. He never deserved all you gave him, my poor, sweet boy. Not ever._

"And _even now, he knows nothing of what you have gone through, what you do go through, just by being near him. To be so close yet know that never can you be any closer… Never can you have the one thing you desire… Never can he be yours. What is it you live for, Merlin? For him?!"_

She trembled violently and let go, body heaving with every lung-full of air she took in, breath raspy and eyes wide as the thrills continued, the feelings pure _bliss…_

Merlin lost the last of his strength and came crashing down, fragile frame rocking with the force it took to live, pain scarring his _everything_. There could be no higher form of abuse, no worse defilement, no greater rape then that of the mind and soul, as Vivien had so mercilessly done to the Warlock, and he curled in on himself mentally, licking wounds that would never heal, the shame and hurt unfathomable. Each breath shaky, Merlin opened his eyes and lifted himself above the ground slightly while Vivien immersed herself in her emotions; she relived Merlin's pain over and over until it gave her no more pleasure.

Strange noises came from Merlin as he tried and failed to regain some stability, as no words can describe the emotions of the victim after such a rape as that had taken place. The assault is too _wrong_.

Looking to the one who Merlin would never have wanted to hear Vivien's cries of ecstasy, sapphires met with cerulean. Arthur was shocked. Disgusted. Horrified. Enraged. But he was relieved. Fascinated. Regretful. Guilty. Depressed. And above of all, he was joyous, despite everything that had been, was and would be. His eyes were full of affection, of warmth and an acceptance Merlin needed more than anything at that time. Reaching out, the King's hand fell a few inches away from Merlin's but the Warlock did not complete the physical bond. Not so soon after Vivien's touch.

"Is it _true_?" Arthur whispered hoarsely, his voice giving away his negative emotions and battering Merlin already broken spirit. The question was unnecessary, the King knew the answer, but he desired to hear it from Merlin's own mouth. The Warlock did not drop his head in shame, but he flinched, an action only the trained eye would notice.

"Every word," he barely said aloud. A tear fell down the King's cheek and he didn't even notice. He would have been angry with himself if he had. Arthur had not cried in years. Merlin smiled, head cocking slightly, eyes shining. Arthur shook his head,

"I have no idea why you do, Merlin, but if you truly love me, then please, don't do this. You can destroy this Demon with the tiniest form of effort and we can flee. We can both live! Do not make me watch this. Do not make me watch you die". Merlin's face crumbled with hurt and disapproval, and he surprised the King by laughing,

"You have been aware of your power but a few seconds and already you're abusing it. You'll never change, will you Arthur? Your arrogant nature will never cease," Arthur was silent, waiting for Merlin to submit, knowing he wouldn't, "I would do anything for you. I have done everything you have asked. Yet knowing this, how can you ask me to kill again? And for what? So an old man can live in the place of a new species? You desire a son and heir – you of all people should not deny it for another who shares your desire." Arthur closed his eyes, another drop of Misery spilling like a diamond among thorns, "What better reason is there to die for? For life!"

Arthur looked back up and broke.

"I'm sorry, Merlin. I'm so sorry. I never…" he took a deep, sobbing breath, "I never knew… I would never have hurt you like that. Feelings like this are always suppressed, I did not think or I thought too much. I do not deserve forgiveness of any sort".

Merlin smiled.

"I love all your beautiful mistakes, Arthur. I wouldn't trade the pain for anything. I'm not scared. Not to die. Not scared at all. I do it for you and because of you and in your place. I have done it so many times before, but I think this one might actually stick. I willingly give my life for yours, Arthur Pendragon". Merlin gave a great, deep sigh and laughed without reason, stealing another glance from the man his entire being depended on. His King. His companion. His soul-mate. His brother in arms. His partner in crime. His Lord and Master, of house and home. "See you in the next life, my friend".

His friend. But never his lover. Not ever.

Vivien sighed as a blank hollowness overcame her raw body, the pleasure so unexpected and so sorely missed. She reached down over the strength-less form of the greatest Warlock in time as we know it and she smiled so wickedly, plunging her hand through his physical form, the Warlock's blood so sweet it sated a thirst she had had her entire life. She gasped, eyes closing as the wave of sensation returned and she clutched his heart, ripping his soul from his body. Merlin closed his eyes, only regret resting on his visage, face lifting to the light as the life was savagely stolen from him in one vicious movement. Arthur screamed, feeling the agony of his twinned soul and his voice was the last thing there was, crying out for the loss of Merlin; _the humble manservant of a prat of a Prince, grinning idiotically as he made Arthur's bed in his chambers, the obnoxious heir to the throne smiling secretly to himself._

That was the image that would forever be thought of first when someone describes the two men, for the rest of eternity. The last image Arthur thought of.

A blinding light filled the room, the colour unbeknown to any. Then darkness.


	5. End

**I Willingly: Chapter Five**

And it is written in the gospel of the Greatest King and the Greatest Warlock that from the darkness there grew many a horrific things, birthed through magic, conceived through pain and supported unto the end of time by madness and grief. From the darkness there came a mist, and through this mist there walked a broken man, death looming as a halo above him, and he walked without knowing from whence he left or to where he was headed. And then, gloom banished and delicious, bittersweet hope rose with the celestial orb of the sky, and the sun shined through an impossible Tower, through which a spotlight fell on the torn face of the King and the story became a one-man-show.

* * *

Arthur fell to his knees before the Tower of Glass, and his heart began to beat slower and slower, his head feeling lighter and his eyes telling him in gentle whispers to just lie down and sleep… sleep… Then it would all be okay… The King could lay asleep next to the tombstone of his friend and he too would never wake up, just die silently and wordlessly of a broken, bleeding heart. No glory, no remembrance, nothing worthy of songs and poems. Just simply death, because Arthur just couldn't do it anymore.

What was the point? Merlin was all he had left in the world, the only piece of gravity keeping Arthur clinging to this burning piece of rock that was flying through the vast abyss of the universe, desperate and afraid. But now he was gone, why should Arthur continue? Everyone had left him. Everyone. His Kingdom could go on without a bat of an eyelash… Some other would take the throne and the crown, someone worthy… But not him. Not anymore. Camelot would live where Arthur would not, so what was the point?

Arthur had cast his crown away when he left Camelot.

Closing his eyes, single tears were released from the prison of cerulean and Arthur laid his forehead against the flawless side of the Glass Tower, its brilliance and magnificence swelling as the sun rose, patterns of beauty dancing all around him, the most breath-taking were those that joined with the swirls and bows of the sunlight on the water of the cloudy lake that fell next to them. But Arthur did not see. Placing his hands on the Glass also, he inhaled shakily.

A soft hand, too light to be human, too real to be a hallucination, brushed gently over Arthur's head and the King did not bother to wonder what it was. He cared very little. What was the point? The hand came down again, more pressure this time, brushing its way through Arthur short, dirty-blonde locks and then making an icy path down Arthur's cheek, before pulling away. Arthur opened his eyes, placing his hand where the strangers had just been and frowned. His skin tingled, like dew in the trees at morning, and his consciousness kicked in, telling him that his mind was no tormenting him, that since a phenomenon had really occurred.

Arthur realised that the Tower of Glass was warm and gaining heat. He logically blamed the sun, but something deep in his gut, something buried beneath those tamed primitive instincts, something _spiritual_ told him otherwise…

He was startled by a voice that melted his frozen mind and he pulled away from the Tower, falling back against the wet grass and staring at pure light, aghast and overwhelmed.

"Do not cry, my friend," it said, soothingly, just like the hand, "Was it not you who told me that no man is worth your tears?"

Swallowing, mouth suddenly unbelievably dry, Arthur laughed without reason,

"Indeed it was. Yet you always did anyway. I always told you that you were a girl, Merlin," he shook his head violently, wishing the voice away, oh, the torment! The sweetest salt in the most fatal of wounds. "I am losing my mind with grief. I bet this Tower is not even here".

A soft chuckle, like a breeze, silent and easily mistakable but Arthur knew every sound that boy could make, could sing the lyrics to every song Merlin's loved, and could spoil every joke… Merlin's voice would always be clear in his head. Yet the King couldn't recall what he looked like. Not even his amber eyes… Were they more yellow, like buttercups, or golden, like the sunrise?

"Nay, sadly, you sanity remains intact, my friend of old. Why should I leave this world? Who knows what would happen to you, should I not be here to save your royal backside?" he chuckled again and Arthur stared at the sunlight caught in the glass, watching in awe as it glowed until it became mist! Like smoke trapped inside a clear bubble, it swirled and slammed into the sides of the Tower, but it was in vain. As the storm of fog increased, growing as much as it swelled, Arthur watching, perplexed.

"Merlin…" he whispered, disbelieving. He reached out and touched the flat of his hand to the Glass, hissing as he felt temperatures that far exceeded boiling point. But they did not burn him. His hand went unscathed. The Tower of Glass and Mist trembled slightly as Merlin chuckled, and the voice was louder, seemingly in Arthur's head. He did not recoil from the presence of another mind, but he embraced it. This was not the first time Merlin had been inside the King's head with him.

"Yes, Arthur. Your mind does not deceive you. You know my touch, do you not recognise it?" Arthur closed his eyes, breathing deep and just allowed his senses to feel everything. And there it was. Merlin was everywhere. In his mind, his ears, his eyes, against his skin, breathing his air, and everywhere!

"I feel you, my friend…" Arthur whispered and Merlin was content. "But I do not understand how this can be… You died. I watched it happen. I saw your body, battered and bruised, when I awoke. Your magic was gone and I was healed of every wound. I do not even bear any of my unhealed wounds. I believed to be in the next life, yet my body has not changed. And she was gone, Vivien… I do not know where. I waited, wanting to take vengeance, but she did not return".

Sighing, even though he did not breathe, Merlin closed Arthur's eyes and spoke; just enough to make the King believe the Warlock was in pain.

"Vivien was descended from the first dragon, the most powerful of them all. Yet I am equally blessed and cursed with the soul of a dragon, being of kin to the majestic beasts, and thus I too share their untamed power, as Vivien felt when she was near me. To extract the soul of one who was more thorough bred then herself – of one who had a whole soul of the dragons and not half – overwhelmed her. She was cast from this realm, her physical body becoming dust, and she lost her power as the energy of both our magical spirits were released into the world, becomes phantoms of the most enchanting places in the world, to thrive with what other powerful magic there is left.

"After the death of my soul and body, my mind was left, still clasped in Vivien's unforgiving claws. She imprisoned me in this realm, my mind never able to leave unto the world of our forefathers, and thus I am trapped here. I have been calling to you for days and now you have come". Arthur stared, confused but relieved.

"It appears your father has saved your life yet again, my friend". Merlin scoffed and did not reply. The soul he inherited from his father was too great – it prevented the forming of a new race of beings. Merlin was now trapped, instead of at peace and the King believed him to have been saved? Nay. But Merlin would torment him with corrects of moral. Another tear fell from the King's pools of cerulean and Merlin spoke again,

"Why do you cry? I still exist! All is not lost!" Arthur lashed out, smacking his hand against the glass tower, hearing the resounding, deep knock bounce back, as if the Tower were hollow. Arthur regretted his actions, not thinking about whether he could break the Glass or not… His voice screamed, agonised and enraged,

"You're just a voice, Merlin!" He breathed heavily, panting and beginning to sway, light-headedly. "Just a voice…" he whispered, and his tears fell yet again. Merlin was lost; a fragment of him imprisoned where Arthur could not join him or reach him, just talk through the bars. It was distressing. How could the King even begin to consider moving on if constantly wracked by the pain caused by the mind of the deceased haunting him forever? How could Arthur lie down and die if Merlin had not crossed to where they would be reunited and begin their like anew? Where was the logic in this?!

Eyes closed, forehead against the Glass and breathing rapid, Arthur was in pain; he had never felt pain like this before. Not even after the catastrophe with Gwendolyn, his Queen. Arthur did not see the Mist thicken. He did not witness the appearance of something more than smoke. He did not look into two amber eyes that floated in cloudy light.

"You look so sad". Merlin's voice was distant now, no longer in Arthur's head but as if the man himself were talking right in front of the King. Frowning, Arthur lifted his eyes and face, tilting up to see the pools of liquid gold melting into his soul, so alive with energy and existence, they thrived. Rising quickly, the King came face to face with the pools of wonder that were usually a dazzling sapphire, but now impossibly surreal and brimming with magic. They were the perfect height for Merlin.

Arthur watched, bewildered and enlightened, as the rest of the Warlock seemed to appear, so quickly that Arthur didn't understand nor realise it until the man himself stood there, in all his glory, grinning ridiculously in the Mist of the Tower of Glass. The perfect image, yet as wrong and unreal as resurrection.

_... Merlin, the humble manservant of a prat of a Prince, grinning idiotically as he made Arthur's bed in his chambers, the obnoxious heir to the throne smiling secretly to himself. _

That was the Merlin that stood before the old King. A mere boy, not long after he had come to Camelot, ripe with age and insecurity, fresh with confusion but so passionate in the love that had not yet caused him any pain, not like he would experience later in his life. He was even wearing that ridiculous red neckerchief that mysteriously disappeared as the Warlock aged, a mere memory by the time Arthur realised it was gone and missed it. He was grinning _that_ grin and Arthur was so overjoyed, he placed his hand onto the Glass in an attempt to reach the memory in form before him, yet he could not. The barrier between them still existed.

And then Arthur froze, staring at the hand before him, his own hand… yet it was different. Those wrinkles, those blemishes, those _scars_ that had accumulated with time were gone. You could always tell the age of someone by their hand and this particular specimen was little over two decades of age. Arthur was flawless, new and thriving. He was young, impossibly so and as he looked down himself, he saw it. The belt with the golden dragon… His old sword before Excalibur became the extension of his arm… Old clothes long worn and thrown away… The scar on his hip, his ankle, the marks from claws across his chest – they were all there, the same as before his body was healed of every mark over seven years back… Arthur was the same as he was the day he met Merlin, in body.

And then Merlin's hand was on his, equally young and flawless, and Arthur's chest rocked with a sob. He could feel the Warlock… Could feel the softness of his young skin, the heat of his blood that circulated round and round, the rush of electricity that their close bond generated… perhaps even the throb of magic deep within the man before him. Meeting the eyes of one who was not there, Arthur smiled, just like he had when Merlin grinned, in their Final Image.

Merlin stepped forward, his front half leaning out of the Tower of Glass as if it were not there and his other hand he used to cup Arthur's cheek, the King sighing when such a profound peace settled upon his mind and spirit. Then Merlin did what he should have done, many, many years ago.

One forehead found another and the two men leant together, eyes closing and the peace becoming one with them. Merlin sighed and Arthur flourished in the sound. The King had no idea how much he adored every single thing about Merlin until they were gone. Then he spoke, truly spoke, as if the Warlock really was just there, a hair-breath away.

"I forgive you, Arthur. I always have. Be at peace, my friend". Then the pressure was gone, only tingles from where one soul had touched its twin. Arthur opened his eyes and saw nothing. No Merlin. No Mist. No sunlight shining through. Just a cold, solitary Tower of Glass. The presence Arthur had felt, so thrilling and free; the presence of Merlin's mind was gone. Arthur called out, physically and mentally but there was no reply. The King knew he was searching for a man no longer in this realm. The King reached out, touching the Tower, oh so gently, but a resounding crack echoed throughout the wood and the Tower shattered.

Arthur watched in horror, his eyes widening, the wrinkles having returned, and screamed as the Tower seemed to collapse in slow motion.

"_NO!!"_

First the tiniest crack splintered through the flawless material from where Arthur had so gently placed his fingertip, but the cracks spread, like a tormenting spider web of destruction, annihilating the structure until, silently, the Glass tumbled from its place like a complete jigsaw puzzle falling apart, and collapsed sideways. Most of the Tower fell into the water of the lake, creating ripples of life on a once flawless surface. The milky surface was also cracked now. Not a wisp of air left the Tower as it collapsed. It was empty.

The breath left Arthur's lungs and he stood, hand frozen from where he had recoiled it, shock infiltrating his system. He just stared for so long, time becoming nothing but a memory. He fell, legs giving way from underneath him and Arthur filled his hands with the shards of the Tower, the Glass pricking his skin and scarlet seeping unto the diamonds of the Tower. He dropped the Glass, sobbing uncontrollably without tears, the wet grass becoming red, his pale skin on his hands bleeding scarlet.

One single drop fell into the lake where the liquid life had dripped slowly until a river had formed so close to the lake's edge. A ripple so forceful that the trees in the entire wood trembled, that the air shivered, that the Earth itself convulsed, shaking Arthur in his violent grief, traversed the length of the entire lake and from that single drop, the pearly surface of the impossible lake turned scarlet, like an infection, spreading more rapid then water through sand.

Arthur did not care, looking but not seeing, immersed in mourning greater than any have ever grieved before.

A form rose from the depths of the liquid rubies, the surface of the lake boiling around her form. Blood dripped from her long locks, from her once-pale skin, even from her eyelashes as she opened her black, black eyes, hatred so pure it stung the very air. Her form continued to rise, 'til the water was only at her hips where she should have been completely submerged, she raised a single hand, drops falling like teardrops from her fingertips, pointing accusingly at Arthur. She pulled back her lips, revealing those blood-stained teeth and she snarled.

Taking a step forward in the water, she came towards him, but Arthur did not care. He too walked forward, losing the will and purpose to live as depression drowned him. But before he could touch the water's edge, another figure erupted from the lake, not a speck of blood upon him, face twisted with unstoppable rage. He wrapped his finger in the hair of the Demon, forcing a soundless scream from her as she reached to scratch at the attacker, but not getting the chance as he forced her head to submerge again, releasing her to the underworld as she fell, fell, fell from our realm.

Looking up at the human on the lakeside, Merlin smiled blissfully, young as he had been in the image in the Tower. Arthur lost the will to move, freezing as he stared. Not a word was spoken and then, before Arthur's very eyes, he was gone. Sunken back beneath the surface of the lake, sucking the blood with him as pearls fought rubies and Merlin fell through the gates of Avalon and rested before his next life began, waiting for Arthur, if it took forever.

The King collapsed beside the lake and wept. He wept in anguish for days before his people found him. It took five knights to pull him away from the lakeside.

**Oh yeah, didn't I mention character death? Oops.... :) **


End file.
